


Sleeping and Cuddling aren't so Boring

by cyberpunkjpg



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Doctor Who References, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberpunkjpg/pseuds/cyberpunkjpg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock falls asleep on John and cuddles with John. His Jawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sofas and Doctors

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this comic thing: http://images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/28400000/I-Think-I-Need-a-Doctor-johnlock-28484759-462-700.jpg

Telly. It was a delicate subject. John liked it mostly, he could stand the crap acting and cheesy plots he came across, he loved the good stuff like _Doctor Who_ and this new show about some actor, _Benedict._ It was something to do when he had made a fresh cuppa and wanted to settle down on the sofa for a while. 

Sherlock had a totally different opinion.

He didn't call it just "telly". It was always " _crap_ telly". Because to him, it was all utter crap. Why watch a stupid sci-fi show about things that weren't real when you could be solving a nice murder? 

There was that, and the awful 'mystery" shows that Sherlock solved before the opening credits and called a disgrace to actual crime scenes and detectives. Well, only a certian consulting one.

So when John plopped down on the sofa with his tea and looked around for the remote, Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"Must you watch crap telly right now? I'm doing research," he said, never looking up from his laptop or shifting in his armchair. 

"I've had a long day, Sherlock. Telly helps me relax," John had found the remote and the telly flickered on to the news. It was talking about the random shootings occuring in London, something they had solved just yesterday. 

John skimmed through the channels, finally finding an episode of _Doctor Who._ Even though it was an old one he had seen already, he snuggled on the side of the sofa against the armrest with a pillow, half-empty tea on the coffee table. 

Sherlock sighed as John was absorbed in watching the Doctor fighting cheesily-animated aliens. Research would be hopeless. 

John went to get another cup of tea, footsteps muffled by dark blue socks, and Sherlock quietly shut his laptop. It found a place on the coffee table as he sat in the spot John had just been sitting in. Still warm. He grudgingly moved his gaze to the telly, just to watch til John got back. 

"I think you need a doctor," (he was assuming) the Doctor said, leaning in to kiss a blond woman. Bright light filled the screen, and John padded back into the room, stopping halfway. "Are you watching the telly?" He asked, surprise and amusement mixing in his words and his grin.  
Sherlock ignored his question, eyes still on the screen.  
"John."  
"Yeah?"  
"I think I need a doctor."  
"What? Why?" John's tone grew worried. "What's wrong?" He was in front of Sherlock in an instant, tea on the table again, blocking his view of the telly, eyes searching for the problem.  
"I'm fine, John, I just thought..." he shook his head, and muttered something John didn't hear.  
A confused look clouded John's face, but went away as he sat next to Sherlock.  
"So," the amused and surprised grin was back, "since you didn't catch all of the episode, Rose goes back to save the Doctor but absorbs the Tardis, his spaceship, and kills the daleks, the enemies, but since she absorbed it it'll kill her, so the Doctor absorbs it himself...." John trailed off, looking like he was thinking hard about something very funny, which he was, until he remembered the scene he had missed, the only scene of _Doctor Who_ Sherlock had seen.  
Then he grinned. "You git! Is that why you said you needed a doctor?"  
"Possibly."  
"You could've just asked!"  
Before Sherlock could answer, John leaned over and kissed him sweetly. When he pulled away, he scooted up to Sherlock so their thighs touched, and rested his head on his shoulder.  
Sherlock just gave a small smile and relaxed further against the sofa.  
The episode ended and John was just going to brush his teeth and go to bed. But a sleeping Sherlock in his lap kept him on the sofa. His head was nestled next to John's stomach, resting on the armrest. Most of his thin frame was curled up on John's lap, one arm under his head and the other clinging to a handful of John's jumper. It was rare for Sherlock to sleep, especially on the sofa, and John involuntarily smiled at the thought of Sherlock sleeping on the sofa just because he wanted to be with John.  
So John didn't wake Sherlock up, or go to an actual bed, but pressed a kiss to Sherlock's hairline and shifted to go to sleep with him.


	2. Beds and Arses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHERLOCK'S ARSE.

John Watson liked his bed. It was a nice bed. Dark brown sheets with white, thin crisscross patterns and a light brown duvet were always perfectly straight, the same colored pillows with the crisscross always symmetrically lined, except for when he was sleeping.

Or when Sherlock was in his bed.

Their relationship had some of the best times in the bedroom, John wanting to please and satisfy, Sherlock extremely responsive and encouraging. 

A few interesting romps could leave a sheet corner untucked, most times the duvet ended up on the side of bed, and every time the sheets would be damp with sweat. John's sheets had to have been washed a thousand times these past months.

Not that he minded.

But he knew he would wash them again today. They should really think to put a couple towels down.

These thoughts came to John even before he had cracked his eyes open, but he didn't need his sight to smell the faint scent of sweat and sex on him and Sherlock and the poor sheets.

He let a puff of air out of his nose as he rolled over to face Sherlock, opening his eyes.

"Good morning," he said with a smile, when he found Sherlock awake, throat a little scratchy.

His pale lover was under the duvet, up to his chest, laying on his back and looking up to the ceiling.

"What do people intend to convey with that phrase? That it's a good morning? They wish you have a good morning? That they hope the morning will be good? That-"

His early morning rant was interrupted by John pulling him onto his side and pressing their lips together. Sherlock winced when he moved and John smirked into their kiss.

"Feeling sore?" He asked after they had pulled away.

Sherlock just groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. John giggled when he heard a muffled "my arse" from under the covers.

"You weren't complaining then! In fact, weren't you screaming, 'more, John, hard-"

"Sorry, I can't hear you over my sore arse!" Sherlock was still under the duvet.

John laughed and wormed his way under the duvet to Sherlock so they were face to face, grinning at each other.

"Kidding, John. I'd rather be a bit sore than not have you pound into me every night."

"How romantic."

"Am I?"

"You need some work."

Their cheeky grins were still present as they kissed again, arms wrapping around each other and legs tangling. They didn't let it get too heated, for the sake of Sherlock's arse. 

As they scampered to the shower a few minutes later, John gave his bed an apoligetic look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, chapter 2!

**Author's Note:**

> First fic on here, let me know if you spot any spelling/grammar errors or if I need to touch up on my British lingo. New chapter coming asap.


End file.
